ANN  EX 


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LUDLOW 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY 


By 

CHARLES  HIRAM  CHAPMAN 

Author  of 
"The  Mormon  Elder" 


PUBLISHED  BY 
THE  RADICAL  UNION 


COPYRIGHT  1914 


LUDLOW 

SCENE:    A  high-toned  church,  the  congregation  waiting  for  the  minister. 
It  is  prayer  meeting  night.  Enter  two  angels. 

First  Angel: 

Have  you  observed  His  Majesty  of  late?    I  fear  he's  growing 

A  trifle  lax  in  business- 
Second  Angel:  I've  noticed  it;  he's  showing, 

Unless  I  err,  the  sad  effects  of  years. 

First  Angel:  And  cares.    His  reign 

Has  lasted  twenty  centuries  almost. 

Second  Angel:  Of  course  his  brain 

Is  active  still. 

First  Angel:  Oh,  certainly.    He's  fond  of  art— and  yet 

Not  as  he  used  to  be. 

Second  Angel:  Oh,  no;  he  always  had  a  set 

Of  young,  ambitious  cherubs  round  him  painting,  graving  gems, 
Composing  music  for  the  harp,  designing  diadems 
For  newly  ransomed  saints— but  that  is  past  and  gone ;  I  hear 
He's  taken  to  collecting. 

First  Angel :  Yes,  antiques,  those  very  queer 

Old  tapestries,  quaint  bronzes,  magic  rings  and  filmy  laces, 
Bits  of  armor,  swords  and  daggers,  manuscripts 

and  broken  vases— 

In  his  palace,  I  assure  you,  there's  an  atmosphere  of  death. 
Life  and  living  art  have  vanished. 

Second  Angel:  Sad  indeed.    I've  heard  a  breath 

Of  rumor,  just  a  whisper,  that  he  spends  a  lot  of  time 
Making  verses,  molding  language  into  childish,  jingling  rhyme. 

Second  Angel:    Yes,  I  know.    He's  writing  sonnets, 

but  you'd  never  guess  his  theme — 
'Tis  free  love. 

First  Angel:    My  goodness  gracious,  what  a  scandal! 

Second  Angel:  There's  a  dream 

Floating  nebulously,  vaguely  thru  his  age-encumbered  mind 
Of  a  happy  transformation,  comfort,  peace  for  all  mankind — 


4  LUDLOW 

No  more  killing  toil,  no  Privilege  to  suck  the  toilers'  blood- 
Equal  right  and  equal  justice- 
First  Angel:  All  men  sprawling  in  the  mud 
Together. 

Second  Angel:    Yes,  precisely  so. 

First  Angel:  I'm  told  he  sits  up  late 

Reading  books  on  sociology. 

Second  Angel:  Too  true. 

First  Angel:  And  talks  a  great 

Deal  too  much  about  his  only  son. 

Second  Angel:  The  boy  they  crucified— 

A  sad,  sad  end,  but  then  when  law  and  order  are  defied 
Justice  must  take  its  course. 

First  Angel:  They  say  his  son  had  some  such  plan 

For  changing  into  heavenly  bliss  the  wretched  lot  of  man 
As  that  His  Majesty  now  dreams  of— 

Second  Angel:  "Dreams"!    a  fitting  word. 

It  makes  me  sad  to  see  him  toy  with  visions  so  absurd. 
Meantime  the  rival  dynasty  encroaches  more  and  more 
Upon  his  territory. 

First  Angel:  Yes,  indeed.    We  all  deplore 

The  inroads  they  are  making,  John  D.  Jr.  and  his  sire, 
They  capture  some  new  fortress  every  day. 

Second  Angel:  They're  climbing  higher 

While  we  sink  down.    It  won't  be  long  at  this  rate  ere  they  gain 
Unlimited  dominion. 

First  Angel:  So  I  fear.    I  note  with  pain 

The  cdntrast  most  regrettable  between  the  young  John  D. 
And  His  Majesty's  meek  son  who  fronts  his  rival  with  a  plea 
For  kindness,  love  and  brotherhood- 
Second  Angel:  The  Rockefellers  smile 
At  his  innocence.     True  statesmen  diplomatic,  they  beguile 
Their  feeble  foe  with  promise,  protestation,  honeyed  praise 
And  now  and  then  a  present  while  they  march  their  ruthless  ways 
To  power.     I  foresee  a  time  unless  the  tide  soon  turns 
When  they'll  own  every  church  on  earth. 

First  Angel:  With  shame  my  spirit  burns 

That  His  Majesty  has  sent  us  to  congratulate  his  foe 
On  his  recovery.     It  seems  like  begging  favor. 


LTJDLOW 

Second  Angel:  So 

It  does  to  me.    But  we  will  do  the  deed  howe'er  disrelishing— 
Duty  is  duty  even  when  it  sadly  needs  embellishing. 

[Enter  Minister] 
First  Angel: 

Here  comes  the  minister.     I  hope  he  won't  begin  to  preach 
Before  we  get  a  chance  polite  to  make  our  little  speech. 

Second  Angel: 

He  isn't  going  to  preach  tonight.     He  only  means  to  pray. 
I'll  intercept  him.     Reverend  Sir,  behold  us  in  your  way 
His  Majesty's  ambassadors  congratulations  bearing 
To  his  valued  John  D.  Jr.     Kindly  say  how  he  is  faring 
And  indicate  his  person  that  our  errand  we  may  end 
And  cease  to  interrupt  your  rites. 

Minister:  I'm  glad,  my  heavenly  friend, 

To  tell  you  his  recovery  is  perfect.     We  expect  him 
Every  minute  but  he's  not  here  yet. 

Second  Ang-el:  You're  going  to  elect  him 

For  your  God,  I'm  told. 

Minister:  'Twere  hardly  diplomatic  to  disclose 

Our  plans  to  you.     His  Majesty  would  certainly  oppose 
If  he  knew  we  meditated  such,  and  you  of  course  would  feel 
In  duty  bound  to  tell  him. 

Second  Angel:  Since  you're  minded  to  conceal 

Your  traitorous  intentions- 
Minister:  Sir,  your  language  is  profane. 

Second  Angel: 

Pardon,  your  Reverence,  perhaps  it  is  a  little  plain 
For  this  sacred  tabernacle.     I  suppose  'tis  very  rare 
To  hear  the  cold  truth  spoken  in  this  dim,  religious  air. 

Minister : 

'Tis  faith,  not  truth,  we  cherish  here. 

Second  Angel:  The  interval  to  fill 

While  we  wait  his  presence  tell  us  how  he  came  to  be  so  ill. 

Minister : 

His  malady  was  of  the  soul,  his  body  was  not  sick. 
'Twas  anguish  of  the  spirit,  sorrows  piling  on  him  thick 
From  far-off  Colorado  where  the  earth  is  full  of  coal, 
Full  of  gold  and  iron  and  radium,  but  alas !  no  living  soul, 


6  LUDLOW 

Such  fatal  spell  was  on  the  land,  could  mine 

those  treasures  varied, 
So  in  dark,  subterranean  tombs  for  ages  they  lay  buried. 

Second  Angel: 

Teach  us  the  spell,  if  not  too  dire  its  horrid  symbols  mystic. 

Minister : 

Its  baneful  sense  is  all  summed  up  in  one  word  cabalistic— 
UNOWNED— the  gold  was  public,  and  the  coal  and  iron  all, 
And  therefore  none  might  use  them,  for  a  blighting  curse  will  fall 
On  him  who  aught  converts  to  use  for  food  or  wear  or  tool 
Ere  he  has  feed  an  owner,  such  is  fate's  eternal  rule. 

Second  Angel: 

Since  the  minerals  were  public,  why  wouldn't  it  suffice 
To  fee  the  public? 

Minister:  Get  thee  hence!    It  fills  me  with  surprise 

A  proposal  so  subversive,  atheistic  and  seditious, 
To  hear  from  lips  celestial.     Such  suggestions  black,  pernicious 
Were  better  heard  from  hell  than  heaven. 

Second  Angel:  Alas!   I  meant  no  harm. 

I  asked  for  mere  instruction. 

Minister:  Pardon  then  my  fierce  alarm 

And  remember  for  the  future  that  the  public  was  created 
To  pay  fees,  not  receive  them. 

Second  Angel:  So.    How  came  the  curse  abated? 

Minister: 

One  day  great  John  D.  Jr.  with  a  martyr's  sense  of  duty 
Offered  himself  as  owner  thus  to  break  the  spell.    The  beauty 
Of  his  deed  I  dare  say  stuns  you? 

Second  Angel:  I  am  simply  paralyzed. 

Minister: 

Since  you  grasp  the  situation  thus  you  will  not  be  surprised 

To  learn  that  Colorado  on  its  benefactor  cast 

All  her  radium,  gold  and  iron  and  timber  to  the  last 

Lone  tree,  and  John  D.  Jr.,  bent  beneath  the  mighty  weight, 

But  submissive  to  his  duty,  sent  a  message  thru  the  great 

Wide  earth,  "Come  hither,  toilers!  Flee  your  masters, 

break  your  chains, 

Blast  my  coal  and  mine  my  iron  and  I  promise  for  your  pains 
To  your  souls  a  blest  salvation,  for  I  draw  at  will  on  God 


LUDLOW  7 

Thru  the  Church  my  faithful  partner." 

So  wherever  wage-slaves  trod 
They  heard  his  wooing  call  and  came,  Italian,  Finn  and  Greek. 

Second  Angel : 

In  return  for  all  his  trouble  what  did  John  D.  Jr.  seek? 

Minister: 

He  sought  not  sordid  pelf,  to  win  their  wayward  hearts  he  longed. 
And  so  when  he  remarked  with  grief  that  every 

night  they  thronged 

Where  in  the  falsely  gay  saloon  the  bright  lights  lured  to  hell 
Thru  fetid  mists  of  putrid  sin,  the  scene  he  pondered  well ; 
With  his  God  he  faced  the  problem,  saw  the  light, 

and  thenceforth  there 
Only  consecrated  drinks  were  sold  which  stimulated  prayer. 

Second  Angel: 

How  must  his  blood-washed  soul  have  joyed 

to  see  those  orgies  foul 

Transformed  to  scenes  of  holy  bliss.     'Twere  impolite  to  growl 
If  he  made  a  little  money  from  those  purified  saloons — 

Minister: 

Oh  let's  not  think  of  money.    Let  me  turn  to  other  boons 

Which  his  generous  heart  provided  to  beautify  dull  life 

For  those  hapless  foreign  miner  boys  bereft  of  home  and  wife. 

In  his  sterilized  saloon  a  band  of  maidens  chaste  he  housed 

In  whose  refined  society  the  men  who  had  caroused 

Erewhile  with  siren  charmers  read  the  Bible,  sang  of  Christ. 

And  heavenward  with  many  a  lure  were  craftily  enticed — 

They  seasoned  fleshly  joys  with  saving  principles  sedate 

And  passions  born  in  hell  were  tamed  to  guide  to  Heaven's  gate. 

Second  Angel : 

You  said  a  moment  since  those  maids  were  chaste, 

your  langauge  now 
Implies  some  relaxation  of  their  chill,  forbidding  vow. 

Minister : 

'Twas  spiritually  chaste,  I  meant.    Their  bodies  were  for  sale. 

Second  Angel: 

May  I  ask  who  got  the  proceeds  ? 

Minister:  Proceeds!    Ever  without  fail 

Your  mind  reverts  to  earthly  filth.    Fain,  fain  would  I  compel 
Your  thoughts  with  mine  and  great  John  D.  's  on 

loftier  themes  to  dwell. 


8  LUDLOW  ~ 

The  laborer,  as  you  have  read,  is  worthy  of  his  hire 
And  John  D.  Jr.  labored  with  incessant,  hot  desire 
To  alleviate  the  miners  and  defend  them  from  the  wiles 
Of  union  organizers  who  with  sleek,  insidious  smiles 
Sought  to  woo  them  from  their  liberty,  by  unionized  compact- 
Sought  to  rob  them  of  that  precious  right, 

the  freedom  of  contract. 

Second  Angel: 

Thru  their  union  they  contract  far  more  efficiently,  more  pelf 
They  get,  than  each  one  lonely  can,  unfriended  for  himself. 

Minister : 

You  forget  that  John  D.  Jr.  is  every  miner's  friend 
And  that  liberty,  not  glittering  pelf,  is  life's  important  end. 
That  holy  watchword  "liberty"  elucidates  John  D. 
With  great  expository  skill,  and  power.    It  means,  says  he, 
The  right  to  work  for  what  one  will  and  where  one  will  and  when, 
And  to  guard  the  right  unsullied  he  stationed  riflemen 
On  all  approaches  to  his  mines  with  orders  strict  to  shoot 
Each  miner  who  from  liberty's  blest  precincts  tried  to  scoot, 
And  each  fiendish  agitator  who  with  glittering  lures  to  sin 
In  the  form  of  union  slavery,  serpent-like  came  stealing  in. 
I've  oft  heard  John  D.  Jr.  say  he'd  rather  sacrifice 
Every  cent  of  his  investment  than  permit  such  ill  to  rise. 
Thus  the  simple  miners,  sheltered,  lived  their  sweet,  idyllic  lives 
Like  happy  working  bees  that  swarm  in  huge  industrious  hives 
Far  from  noisy  altercations,  storing  honey  day  by  day- 
Second  Angel: 

And  John  D.  got  the  honey  ? 

Minister:  Does  he  not  deserve  his  pay, 

Who  bears  the  weight  of  ownership  ?    Thus  many  a 

bright  month  passed 

And  John  D.  in  his  innocence  believed  he  had  at  last 

Out  in  golden  Colorado  an  ideal  realm  created. 

But  alas!  into  this  Eden  wriggling  serpents  penetrated— 

Union  agents  spewing  venom- 
Second  Angel:  My!   how  warm  your  language  grows! 

Minister : 

With  righteous  indignation  hot  my  outraged  being  glows 
When  I  think  of  all  the  mischief  those  paid  agitators  made 
In  spite  of  all  precautions,  with  never-ceasing  raid 
On  property,  religion,  law  and  order — 


LUDLOW  9 

Second  Angel:  Tell  us  pray 

Precisely  what  the  doctrines  were  with  which  they  led  astray 
Those  poor,  deluded  miners. 

Minister :  God,  they  said,  had  made  the  earth 

The  common  property  of  men  and  everyone  by  birth 
Was  entitled  to  an  equal  share  of  all  that  it  contains, 
Its  oil  wells,  farm  lands,  timber,  water  powers  and  mineral  veins, 
Since  God  is  no  respecter  of  our  social  laws  distorted, 
But  would  make  his  favors  equal  if  his  purpose 

were  not  thwarted. 

Second  Angel : 

Alas!  what  horrid  doctrines!     How  blasphemous,  how  debased. 
Pray,  why  in  heaven  are  rank  and  class  and  privilege  not  erased 
If  God  is  such  a  democrat?    There  some  sit  high,  some  low, 
Some  always  feast  at  his  right  hand  while  some  on  errands  go. 
He  has  his  favorites  above,  chosen  we  know  not  why, 
And  naturally  here  below  like  principles  apply. 

Minister : 

They  always  have  and  justly  too,  for  what  a  falling  down 
Would  overtake  art,  music,  those  bright  jewels  in  the  crown 
Of  our  age,  so  grandly  civilized,  were  none  endowed  with  means 
To  house  the  shivering  poet,  keep  the  painter  clad  with  jeans — 
But  I'm  saddest  when  I  contemplate 

the  woes  the  church  would  rack 

Were  our  millionaires  abolished.    Oh  the  vision  is  too  black— 
Avaunt  thou  spectre  horrid.    Vanish  army  peripatetic 
Of  preachers  seeking  pulpits,  unwillingly  ascetic ! 

Second  Angel: 

Is  the  spectral  army  gone  ? 

Minister:  'Tis  going.    Slyly  day  by  day 

The  incendiary  traitors  led  those  hapless  men  astray, 
Until  on  one  sad  morning  they  forsook  their  peaceful  jobs, 
Against  their  master  kind  rebelled  and  massed  in  howling  mobs 
They  cursed  the  law,  reviled  the  flag,  defied  the  powers  stellar, 
Nay  some,  with  drunken  rage  insane,  blasphemed  our  Rockefeller. 
Resuming  quite  the  savage  they  refused  to  pay  their  rents, 
Migrated  to  the  open  wilds  and  housed  themselves  in  tents. 

Second  Angel: 

What  fickle  hearts  they  must  have  had  to  outrage  human  laws 
And  blaspheme  God  and  John  D.  for  no  reason  but  because 
The  agitators  told  them  to. 


10  LUDLOW 

Minister:  Oh  desperately  vile 

They  are,  those  heathen  foreigners.    In  patient  grief  the  while 
Good  John  D.  Jr.  prayed  for  them  and  fasted  with  a  meek 
Resolve  to  win  their  wayward  hearts  until  he  grew  so  weak 
He  was  forced  to  keep  his  bed. 

But  now  his  strength  has  been  regained 
Somewhat  at  least  and  he'll  be  here  directly. 
[Enter  His  Majesty} 

His  Majesty:  I  am  pained 

To  think  how  much  he  must  have  suffered  grieving  for  the  sins 
Of  those  benighted  aliens,  but  such  holy  sorrow  wins 
Eternal  compensation.    At  first  it  seemed  to  me 
A  graceful  act  to  send  these  blessed  angels  to  John  D. 
"With  polite  congratulations  on  his  precious  health  restored, 
But  I  finally  reflected  that  he  might  perhaps  feel  bored- 
Regarding  it  as  something  less  than  due  consideration 
That  mere  angels  should  my  message  bring  to  one 

of  his  high  station — 
So  here  I  am  myself. 

Minister:  And  you  are  welcome,  I  am  sure, 

To  your  temple. 

His  Majesty:  Thanks;  my  title  seems  a  little  insecure 

At  times  to  my  possessions  of  this  sort.    No  doubt  our  dear 
John  D.  Jr.  with  his  gunmen,  ere  a  great  while,  will  be  here. 

Minister: 

I  think  I  hear  him  coming.    There,  the  bell  in  solemn  tones 
Announces  his  arrival.    On  our  reverent  prayer  bones 
Let  us  await  his  entrance. 

[All  kneel  except  His  Majesty] 

His  Majesty:  They  made  no  such  demonstration 

When  I  came  in.    I  see  I'm  quite  of  secondary  station 
In  this  scene  of  love  adoring.    In  good  truth  I  almost  feel 
As  if  to  show  due  deference  I  ought  myself  to  kneel. 

[Minister  and  congregation  sing] 

Hail  mighty  son  of  John ! 
Nobly  thou  bearest  on 

All  his  great  task. 
Humbly  to  thee  we  bow ; 
In  thy  blest  presence  now 

Beaming  we  bask. 


LUDLOW  11 

Pounder  of  colleges, 
Spreader  of  knowledges, 

Prop  of  the  church, 
Stay  of  our  missions  wide, 
Ne'er  us,  oh  radiant  guide, 

Leave  in  the  lurch. 

Our  fond  eyes  turn  up  to  thee, 
Eager,  expectantly, 

Fountain  of  hope ! 
Shower  thy  favors  down, 
Dolour  with  dollars  drown,— 

Shell  out  the  dope ! 

His  Majesty  [to  angels]: 

These  Christians  have  bestowed  my  throne  outright 

on  young  John  D. 
And  they  worship  him  more  ardently  than  ever  they  did  me. 

Second  Angel : 

Don't  take  their  lapse  unkindly.    You're  too  busy  to  attend 

To  their  affairs.    A  stranger  you,  while  he  has  stood  their  friend, 

Bought  them  an  organ,  paid  their  preacher, 

kept  them  out  of  debt— 

When  have  you  ever  done  as  much  for  anybody  yet? 
Sitting  up  there  in  heaven  occupied  with  stars  and  suns — 
Can  you  complain  if  Rockefeller  takes  the  helm  and  runs 
Your  churches  ? 

His  Majesty:        I've  been  negligent  and  things  are  going  badly 
In  this  portion  of  my  empire.    They  need  regulating  sadly. 
From  this  moment  I  will  change  my  course,  turn  over  a  new  leaf 
And  endeavor  to  win  back  the  hearts  I've  lost.    I  think,  in  brief, 
I'll  hold  a  day  of  judgment.    Maybe  something  will  come  out 
That  will  cost  this  John  D.  Jr.  the  respect  of  the  devout 
And  lead  them  back  into  my  fold.    Tell  Gabriel  to  bring 
His  trump  and  blow  a  blast  to  summon  every  living  thing 
And  wake  the  dead.    We'll  see  when  all  the  hidden  truth  is  told 
Whether  this  proud  young  man  can  still  supplant  me  in  my  fold- 
Meanwhile  I  '11  treat  him  civilly. 

J.  D.  Jr. :  I  cannot  be  deceived ! 

'Tis  His  Majesty.    I  know  his  face. 

I  should  have  been  most  grieved 
Had  my  affliction  kept  me  home  from  this  auspicious  meeting. 

His  Majesty: 

I  dropped  in  to  congratulate— 


12  LUDLOW 

J.  D.  Jr. :  My  illness  has  been  fleeting. 

I  trace  my  swift  recovery  to  your  especial  favor. 

His  Majesty: 

You  flatter  me.  But  I'll  confess  your  prayers  have  sweeter  savor 
Than  most  of  those  that  rise  like  smoke  and  cloud  the  atmosphere 
Around  my  throne.  But  there's  one  point — 

pray  tell  me  now,  my  dear 

John  D.,  how  did  you  recognize  my  countenance  so  quickly? 
Unless  I  err  we've  never  met  before. 

J.  D.  Jr. :  Oh,  no,  but  thickly 

Your  portraits  hang  upon  the  walls 

of  my  friend  Morgan's  palace— 
And  your  picture's  in  the  Bible. 

His  Majesty:  I've  sometimes  suspected  malice 

In  those  designs.    I'm  glad  to  learn  they  are  so  accurate. 

[Enter  Gabriel.    He  blows  his  trumpet] 
But  here  comes  good  old  Gabriel.    He's  prompt  and  sure  as  fate. 

J.  D.  Jr. : 

What's  the  meaning  of  his  trumpet?    It  can't  be  that  the  Day 
Of  Judgment's  come?    I'm  not  prepared— 

I'll  have  to  get  a  stay— 

Postponement— sure  'tis  wrong  to  bring  it  on  in  such  a  hurry. 
I  refer  you  to  my  lawyers. 

His  Majesty:  Don't  fall  into  a  flurry, 

My  dear  John  D.  You'll  recollect  you  couldn't  ask  much  warning, 
For  your  Bible  tells  you  plainly  that  the  awful  judgment  morning 
Shall  dawn  quite  unexpectedly.    But  pray  collect  your  wits— 
This  is  only  a  rehearsal— 

J.  D.  Jr.:  Still  I  think  it's  best— it  fits 

My  station  better,  you'll  concede,  to  have  my  lawyers  here 
Lest  anything  untoward  should  occur. 

Mis  Majesty:  Oh,  never  fear. 

A  man  as  good  as  you  should  face  his  final  reckoning  bold 
As  any  lion,  confident  he  '11  glide  into  the  fold 
Among  the  sheep.    And  since  when  comes  the  real  Judgment  Day 
You  must  answer  without  lawyers,  'twere  better,  I  should  say, 
To  dispense  with  them  on  this  occasion. 

J.  D.  Jr. :  Very  well,  I  bow 

To  your  opinion.    Still  no  doubt  you'll  graciously  allow 
My  right  to  an  appeal. 


LUDLOW  13 

His  Majesty:  To  whom  appeal  from  my  decree? 

J.  D.  Jr.: 

Why  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  course. 

Mis  Majesty:  Of  course;  oh,  certainly. 

I'd  forgotten  that  tribunal  so  much  higher  than  my  own. 

[Enter  a  stranger] 

Speak  up,  you  wandering  pilgrim  fierce,  of  countenance  unknown. 
Tell  us  your  name  and  why  you  came  to  this  dire  judgment  place. 

U.  Sin. : 

My  name  is  Upton  Sinclair  and  unto  his  brazen  face 
To  accuse  this  John  D.  Jr.  am  I  come. 

His  Majesty:  So.    By  your  grace, 

Kind  pastor,  in  your  pulpit  I  will  take  the  cushioned  seat, 
And  this  wild  wanderer  shall  tell  his  story  at  my  feet. 
Upton — hum — Upton — by  that  name  my  memory  is  stirred— 
It  seems  to  me  as  if  its  sound  somewhere  I  must  have  heard. 
Upton— ah  yes— are  you  not  he  who  wrote  that  famous  book, 
The  Jungle?    All  the  angels,  each  secluded  in  a  nook, 
I  caught  reading  it  one  day. 

Their  hymns  were  still,  their  pallid  wings 
With  agitation  waved. 

U.  Sin.:  I'm  he,  and  the  same  impulse  brings 

Me  here  today  that  fired  my  soul  when  I  composed  the  Jungle— 
Hatred  of  wrong  and  tyranny,  contempt  for  that  gross  bungle, 
Our  so-called  civilization,  a  machine  of  crime  invented 
To  enslave  the  weak  and  simple 

for  the  cunning  strong.     Contented 
The  Rockefeller  slaves  toiled  on  in  misery  most  foul 
Too  ignorant  to  feel  their  wrongs,  too  cowardly  to  howl 
When  they  were  robbed  and  murdered. 

His  Majesty:  Murdered? 

U.  Sin. :  Murdered  by  the  score 

By  tricky  engineering,  cheap  and  deadly;  o'er  and  o'er 
The  walls  caved  in  and  buried  them,  the  fiery  gas  exploded— 
Their  lives  cost  Rockefeller  naught- 
why  should  he  then  be  loaded 

With  the  price  of  honest  engineering?    Fraud  would  do  as  well 
And  so  he  kept  his  murderous  mines  a  profitable  hell, 
Staining  every  coin  with  blood  drops,  Some  laws  the  harlot  state, 
The  harlot  Colorado,  had  enacted  to  protect 

The  ignorant  foreign  miners,  but  these  feeble  laws  were  wrecked 
By  the  Rockefeller  hirelings,  who,  more  ravenous  than  their  lord— 


14  LUDLOW 

His  Majesty:    Tut,  tut,  not  me,  I  hope? 

U.  Sin.:  Oh,  no,  I  mean  that  fiend  abhorred 

Whom  your  saints  adore  instead  of  you.    With  politicians  linked 
As  vile  as  he  to  every  vice,  to  every  brute  instinct 
That  would  yield  a  slimy  penny  Rockefeller  pandered  grinning 
Thru  his  hirelings,  knowing  well  that  while  he 

kept  his  poor  slaves  sinning, 
Kept  them  whoring,  kept  them  drunken,  kept 

them  hungry  and  in  debt, 
He  could  rob  them  unresisting. 

His  Majesty:  So  you  make  it  out  and  yet 

They  did  resist. 

U.  Sin. :      I'll  come  to  that.    Pray  let  me  tell  my  tale 
Consecutively.    Colorado 's  laws  within  the  pale 
Of  Rockefeller's  mines  were  all  abolished.    Guards  cried  halt 
On  every  road ;  the  ragged  slaves  must  buy  their  bread  and  salt 
At  Rockefeller's  stores,  their  drinks  at  his  saloons,  their  lust 
Must  sate  upon  his  prostitutes.    No  slave  the  roadway  dust 
Beyond  the  pale  dared  tread.    The  starving  fugitive  was  shot 
And  Colorado  made  no  sign. 

His  Majesty:  Dear  pastor,  did  you  not 

A  short  while  since  as  Eden  blest  those  woeful  mines  describe  1 

Minister: 

I  do  so  still.    These  Sinclairs  are  a  shameless,  lying  tribe, 
I've  heard  them  slander  you  yourself. 

His  Majesty:  You  have?    As  if  that  mattered ! 

My  reputation  hopelessly  long  years  ago  was  shattered 
By  you  preachers.    You  have  given  me  a  character  so  black 
That  Sinclair's  hardest  epithets  are  praises. 

U.  Sin. :  To  come  back,— 

In  spite  of  Rockefeller's  gunmen,  sentinels  and  guards, 
In  spite  of  filth  and  lust  and  blood  and  ignorance  those  shards 
And  images  of  men  defiled  for  Rockefeller's  gain 
Began  at  last  to  think— 

Minister :  0  God,  that  word  gives  me  a  pain ! 

As  soon  as  men  begin  to  think  their  lords  divinely  chosen 
Begin  to  suffer.    All  the  misery,  all  the  myriad  woes  on 
Earth  arise  from  thinking.    If  their  minds  would  only  rest 
There's  no  reason  under  heaven  why  men  should  not  be  blest. 
Thought  is  our  curse,  our  bane,  our  blight. 


LUDLOW  15 

U.  Sin. :  "Pis  curse  and  blight  and  bane 

To  those  who  out  of  human  woe  amass  their  cruel  gain. 
The  brutal  slaves  began  to  think  about  their  wrongs  and  rights— 
They  saw  that  while  their  richest  blood  was  sucked  by  parasites 
They  must  be  wan  and  thin  themselves. 

His  Majesty:  By  parasites  you  mean ? 

U.  Sin:     John  D.  Jr.  and  his  fellows  who  keep  the  workers  lean 
By  devouring  what  their  toil  produces — owners  of  the  earth — 

His  Majesty: 

Oh,  ownership !    That  superstition  causes  constant  mirth 
Among  the  devils  down  in  hell  who  laugh  to  think  that  man 
Devises  tricks  to  keep  himself  as  wretched  as  he  can— 
And  ownership !  of  all  the  tricks  it  is  the  most  absurd. 

Minister : 

Hush,  hush!    I  cannot  suffer  here  such  language  to  be  heard, 
Such  dread,  incendiary  speech  against  the  sacred  right 
Of  property. 

His  Majesty:  In  my  own  church  it  seems  as  if  I  might 

Say  what  I  please. 

Minister:  You  must  observe  becoming  reverence 

For  these  sanctified  surroundings. 

His  Majesty:  Oh,  I  meant  no  offense— 

I  will  apologize. 

U.  Sin. :  Alas !  these  interruptions  endless ! 

How  shall  I  ever  tell  my  tale  ?    The  miner  lone  and  friendless 
Beheld  himself  a  feeble  unit,  helpless  in  the  hands 
Of  myriad  mighty  owners  all  united  by  the  bands, 
Of  the  law  in  corporations.    The  proud  owners  never  deal 
As  man  to  man,  defending  each  his  own  particular  weal, 
But  all  for  each.    For  them  alway  their  legal  unions  speak, 
Their  corporations.    From  their  lords  the  starving  miners  weak 
The  lesson  learned,  "In  union  there  is  strength." 

For  them  as  well 

As  for  their  masters  one  great  voice  the  will  of  all  should  tell, 
But  the  lords  well  knew  the  danger  that 

the  strength  of  union  brings 
To  the  economic  tyrant  as  it  did  of  old  to  kings, 
And  thru  their  legal  spokesman,  who  spoke  for  each  and  all, 
Decreed  that  every  miner  by  himself  must  stand  or  fall 
For  the  lords  a  compact  union— isolation  for  the  thrall. 


16  LUDLOW 

J.  D.  Jr.: 

Whoso  joins  a  labor  union  must  give  up  his  liberty, 

And  the  freedom  of  the  laborer  so  precious  is  to  me — 

So  holy,  that  I'd  sooner  all  my  money  spend  in  fight 

Than  permit  my  dear  loved  miners  thus  to  sacrifice  their  right 

To  sell  as  individuals  their  brawn  and  sweat. 

His  Majesty:  Just  so. 

But  did  it  seem  a  sacrifice,  I'd  really  like  to  know, 
When  you  joined  your  corporation  and  thus  your  right  divine 
Lost  as  an  individual  to  sally  forth  and  mine 
Your  coal  with  your  own  sturdy  hands? 

J.  D.  Jr. :  I  will  not  talk.    I  must 

Refer  you  to  my  lawyers  sage. 

U.  Sin.:  Their  lords'  decree  unjust 

Drove  the  men  to  desperation.    Outraged,  despised,  oppressed, 
They  struck  for  the  right  to  organize, 

the  right  their  lords  possessed 

And  used  to  wrong  and  ruin  them.    The  cabins  where  like  swine, 
To  swell  the  masters'  tribute  bled  from  them  by  right  divine, 
They  dwelt  in  filth  and  shame,  were  built  on  Rockefeller's  land, 
And  when  they  struck  their  pious  lord  invoked  the  leprous  hand 
Of  harlot  Colorado 's  kept  and  prostituted  law 
To  drive  them  from  their  bestial  homes  in  icy  tempest  raw. 
Mothers  with  newborn. babes  were  cast  upon  the  freezing  street 
And  naked  children  cried  forlorn  amid  the  killing  sleet. 
Their  pitiful  possessions  in  the  muddy  gutters  piled, 
Old  keepsakes,  dear  mementoes-,  all  desecrate,  defiled, 
Were  hurled  in  mingled  ruin.    Fleeing  death  they  sought  a  vale. 
Not  yet,  most  strange  to  say,  enclosed  in  Rockefeller's  pale 
And  there  to  shelter  wife  and  babe  from  cruel  elements, 
Aided  by  faithful  brothers'  hands,  they  built  a  town  of  tents 
Where  in  their  patient  misery  sustained  by  hope  they  wait— 
Oh  fatal  hope  !  that  time  and  prayer  their  lords' 

proud  wrath  may  bate 

And  they  may  win  the  piteous  grace  to  bend  to  toil  again, 
Not  cursed  and  robbed  as  sodden  slaves,  but  free  and  upright  men. 
This  was  their  prayer  to  that  hard  soul 

who  stands  before  you  now 

With  simulated  love  to  man  wreathed  falsely  round  his  brow. 
His  dollars  drip  with  babies'  blood,  his  gifts  to  you  have  cost 
A  hundred  thousand  human  souls  in  hellish  misery  lost. 

His  Majesty: 

Tut,  tut,  be  accurate,  my  friend.    I  never  get  his  gifts, 


LUDLOW  17 

Somewhere  'twixt  him  and  me  there  is  a  hand  that  always  lifts 
The  glittering  gob. 

Minister:  I  really  hope  Your  Majesty  descries 

This  wretch's  black  depravity.    The  tale  he  tells  is  lies, 
From  alpha  to  omega.    The  wild  mob  for  whom  he  seeks 
To  rouse  your  feelings  gullible,  it  was  a  gang  of  Greeks 
Savage.    They  were  not  citizens,  they  did  not  speak  our  tongue, 
Their  religion  un-American,  they  did  not  send  their  young 
To  public  school.    In  nauseous  huts  they  lived, 

like  shameless  swine — 

With  such  beasts  you  cannot  reason  nor  by  love  their  souls  refine. 
Kindness  makes  them  only  fiercer. 

Would  we  quell  their  murderous  rage 
We  must  whip  them  till  they  howl  with  pain, 

must  herd  them  in  a  cage — 
We  must  shoot  their  boldest  leaders, 

and  if  now  and  then  by  chance 

A  bullet  on  its  way  to  tame  some  miscreant  should  glance 
And  spatter  baby's  tender  brains  o'er  nursing  mother's  breast 
Why  that's  regrettable  of  course,  but — you  who  do  your  best 
To  rule  the  universe  with  love  are  sometimes,  are  you  not, 
Forced  for  the  sake  of  greater  ends  some  swarming  town  to  blot 
Without  a  moment 's  warning,  from  the  earth  ?    So  in  those  mines 
Our  precious  John  D.  Jr.  by  necessity  combines 
Severity  with  kindness.    To  produce  a  perfect  rose 
Bud  by  the  thousand  after  bud  to  swift  destruction  goes. 

His  Majesty: 

I  do  not  for  a  moment  doubt  that  your  adored  John  D. 
In  all  his  acts,  both  here  and  there,  has  patterned  after  me. 
But  on  the  score  of  harshness,  unless  I  judge  amiss, 
He  has  bettered  my  example. 

U.  Sin. :  If  you  two  go  on  like  this 

How  shall  I  ever  tell  my  tale?    The  miners  patient  wait— 
Housed  in  their  tents,  for  happier  days.    The  lords  manipulate 
The  scenes  for  their  own  purposes.    Far  too  intelligent 
These  men  had  grown  to  please  them  now  and 

far  too  keen  their  scent 

For  right  and  wrong.    They  must  be  harried,  driven  from  the  land 
And  new  hordes  brought  to  take  their  place, 

some  dark  and  savage  band, 

Priest-ridden,  abject,  swinish,  docile  to  fist  and  oath, 
Eager  for  slavish  wage  to  barter  soul  and  body  both. 
Such  workmen  Rockfeller  craves,  such  he  describes  as  free, 
Because  each  one  is  ready  to  devour  his  fellows.    He 


18  LUDLOW 

Se*nt  out  his  call  to  every  sottish,  dark,  unlettered  clime 
Where  tyranny  has  dulled  men's  souls 

and  wrong  by  hallowing  time 
Grown  sacred.    There  his  agents  massed  a  fearsome, 

gibbering  horde 
And,  shipped  like  cattle  with  their  priests, 

into  the  mines  they  poured. 
His  Majesty: 

I  notice  when  you  speak  of  priests  a  sneer,  contemptuous,  proud, 
Distorts  your  lips.    Is  that  because  those  holy  men  are  vowed 
To  me? 

Minister:          Your  faithful  servants  he  scorns  and  hates  like  mad— 

U.  Sin. : 

Your  servants  true  I'd  love  and  praise  if  any  such  you  had 
Among  the  priests.    They  laud  you  to  your  face 

but  when  your  back 
Is  turned  they  serve  the  devil. 

Minister:  That's  a  slanderous  attack. 

His  Majesty: 

Well,  never  mind.    Don't  quarrel.    I'll  investigate  the  charge 
When  I  get  time.    Proceed. 

U.  Sin. :  Thruout  the  country  then  at  large 

Your  holy  John  D.  Jr.  spread  another  urgent  call 
For  assassins,  cutthroats,  butchers.    Hundreds  came. 

He  sent  them  all 

To  harlot  Colorado  who  enrolled  them  in  the  ranks 
Of  her  own  militia  cohorts,  joining  like  to  like,  with  thanks 
Most  grateful  to  her  master.    Their  duty  to  expel 
From  their  tented  homes  the  miners  lest  they  teach 

the  word  "rebel" 
Unto  the  new-brought  servile  horde— 

[Enter  Mother  Jones] 

His  Majesty:  Who  shall  this  figure  name? 

Her  eyes  they  gleam  with  quenchless  fires, 

her  warring  features  flame 
With  passion.    Is  it  love  or  hate  ? 

U.  Sin.:  Your  Majesty,  'tis  love. 

She  has  fought  with  Hell  for  justice. 

She  has  prized  the  right  above 

All  sacred  forms,  all  human  law.  For  them  that  live  in  woe 
Her  soul  is  dedicate  to  strife.  No  furlough  shall  she  know 
In  the  war  till  death  discharges  her. 


LUDLOW  19 

Mother  Jones :  Excuse  me  butting  in 

But  Gabriel's  tooting  trumpet  set  up  such  a  frightful  din 
The  country  over  I  inferred  some  high,  momentous  scene 
Must  be  enacting  here. 

His  Majesty:  There  is.    I'm  trying  hard  to  glean 

The  bare,  unvarnished  truth  about  the  lamentable  strife 
In  John  D.  Jr.  's  mines. 

Mother  Jones :  I  wish  you  luck.    In  all  my  life, 

And  it's  been  long  and  active,  the  truth  I've  never  known 
About  a  strike  of  workers  to  attain  your  holy  throne. 
It  must  reach  you  thru  the  preachers  if  it  reaches  you  at  all, 
And  they,  I'm  sad  to  say,  are  bound  in  Rockefeller's  thrall 
Or  to  Morgan  or  Carnegie  or  some  other  pirate  chief, 
So  the  truths  that  reach  your  Majesty  are  very  sparse  and  brief. 

His  Majesty: 

And  by  what  warrant  do  you  thus  impeach  my  saintly  sources? 
Your  locks  are  white,  your  withered  cheeks  betoken  quiet  courses 
And  yet  your  eyes  are  all  aglow,  you  speak  with  fiery  tongue- 
Mother  Jones : 

My  love  of  liberty  and  right  keeps  me  forever  young— 
I'm  Mother  Jones.  Where'er  the  fight  grows  hot  with  tyrant  power 
You  will  hear  my  voice  uplifted  for  the  rebels.    In  the  hour 
Of  victory  I  share  their  joy — I  cheer  them  when  they  grieve, 
I  bind  their  wounds— I  mother  them— 

Minister:  Don't  let  her  tongue  deceive 

Your  Majesty's  good  judgment,  she's  an  agitator  wild 
She  disseminates  sedition;  by  her  serpent  lure  beguiled 
The  most  contented  force  of  hands  turn  raging  anarchists 
In  half  an  hour.    She's  sure  to  go  wherever  strife  exists 
A  screaming  fury  pouring  oil  on  fire.    She  sought  the  mines 
As  soon  as  trouble  broke  to  fan  the  flame.    In  peace  she  pines, 
In  war  she  hideous  blooms. 

His  Majesty:  It  seems  to  my  impartial  view 

That  Mother  Jones,  if  she  knows  aught  should  tell  it. 

Mother  Jones :  If  you  knew 

The  hundredth  part  that  I  know— 

if  you'd  seen  the  sights  I've  seen — 
Pell  cruelty  upheld  by  law,  the  army  intervene 
Always  upon  the  side  of  wrong,  mothers  with  babes  shot  down 
While  from  their  burning  homes  they  fled, 

the  brutal  soldiers  crown 


20  LUDLOW 

Day  after  day  of  slaughter  with  nights  of  drunken  lust — 

You  would  wonder  at  my  patience.    Do  you  think  it  can  be  just 

That  the  weak  should  always  suffer, 

that  the  poor  should  always  weep? 
His  Majesty: 

Don't  ask  me  what's  just  or  unjust — the  subject  is  too  deep — 
I'm  supposed  to  have  a  purpose  some  eternities  away 
That  will  straighten  out  the  tangled  threads  that  bother  us  today. 
The  thought  is  very  comforting — it  keeps  my  mind  at  ease — 
Everything  comes  right  tomorrow,  or  some  time. 

So  now  then  please 
Go  on  and  tell  your  story. 

Mather  Jones:  I  was  going  to  console 

The  miners'  wives  and  children,  but  I  never  reached  my  goal, 
For  Rockefeller's  gunmen  seized  my  old,  decrepit  frame 
And  threw  me  in  a  dungeon.    There  he  kept  me  till  his  game 
Was  played. 

His  Majesty:          Not  in  a  dungeon— he  could  not— the  law  insures 
Freedom  to  all  impartially  as  long  as  time  endures. 

Mother  Jones : 

That  lovely  dream,  impartial  law!   for  us  who  toil  there's  none, 
Though  plenty  that's  against  us.   From  my  dungeon  dark  and  lone 
Thru  the  grated  windows  peering  I  beheld  the  gunmen  leal 
Wearing  Colorado's  colors  crowned  with  Rockefeller's  seal- 
Saw  the  gay,  pot-bellied  majors  sally  forth  to  lead  their  bands 
To  mercenary  slaughter — saw  them  come  with  gory  hands 
Back  from  the  massacre  of  babes  and  mothers  slain  for  hire, 
Proud  with  the  memory  of  lust  and  hate  and  murderous  fire, 
And  I  saw  the  stars  and  stripes  entwined  on  Colorado's  soil 
With  the  black  assassin  banner  of  Jesuit  Standard  Oil. 
To  Colorado's  venal  courts  I  prayerfully  appealed 
For  those  dear  rights  our  fathers  won  on  many  a  bloody  field. 
But  soon  I  found  there  were  no  rights  for  me — 

the  courts  were  sold 

And  paid  for,  like  the  majors,  with  Rockefeller's  gold. 
So  I  languished  in  my  dungeon  till  the  evil  game  was  won 
By  Rockefeller's  players. 

His  Majesty:  Are  you  sure  your  story's  done? 

Mother  Jones : 

Yes  'tis  done.    When  all  was  over  and  the  poor  I  went  to  save 
Were  hunted  o  'er  the  mountains  or  sleeping  in  the  grave, 
They  set  me  free. 

[Enter  ghost  of  Louis  TiJcas~\ 


LUDLOW  21 

Tikas :  The  trumpet  in  the  depths  of  hell  I  heard. 

From  the  stern  reverberations  of  its  clangor  I  inferred 
That  the  Judgment  Day  had  come  and  so  I  left  my  flaming  bed 
And  sure  at  last  of  justice  to  your  royal  seat  I  sped. 

His  Majesty: 

Here's  another  claiming  justice. 

One  would  think  to  hear  their  cries 
I  had  nothing  else  to  think  about  up  yonder  in  the  skies. 
Dear  sir,  you've  no  idea  how  my  time  is  taken  up 
With  draining  off  my  blood  to  fill  the  sacramental,  cup 
And  christenings  and  baptizings,  tens  of  thousands  every  day, 
I  must  be  there  on  the  spot.    Just  think  were  I  away 
How  the  ritual  would  stagger! 

And  there's  prayers  and  hymns  to  hear 
And  sermons  I  must  criticise  lest  heresies  appear. 
I'm  sure  you  will  acknowledge,  if  your  brain  is  worth  a  dime, 
That  for  trifles  such  as  justice  I  have  very  little  time. 
The  purpose  of  this  gathering  is  from  witnesses  to  learn 
The  truth  about  these  miners.    You  of  course  may  take  your  turn 
If  you've  anything  to  tell.    But  don't  imagine  I  can  spend 
Much  time  on  private  grievances.    I  want  to  clear  my  friend, 
John  D.  Jr.,  of  these  imputations  sad  which  serpent  breath 
Has  blown  upon  his  snow-white  soul. 

Tikas :  The  story  of  my  death 

Will  whiten  his  repute. 

His  Majesty:  Go  on  and  tell  it  then. 

Tikas:  In  life 

I  was  one  of  John  D.  Jr.  's  slaves,  a  miner.    Ere  the  strife 
Had  flamed  to  bloody  warfare  I  was  chosen  by  the  men 
To  lead  them— I  was  spokesman  and  adviser.    Now  and  then 
I  went  to  John  D.  's  agents  with  a  message  and  a  plea 
Begging  our  feudal  masters  from  our  hell  to  set  us  free 
And  let  us  live  and  work  like  decent  men. 

His  Majesty:  And  what  reply 

Did  my  dear  friend  Rockefeller  make  you  ? 

Tikas :  That  which  power  on  high 

Irresponsible  and  absolute  makes  ever  to  the  poor— 
The  reply  of  proud  and  privileged  lord  to  dull,  toil-blighted  boor— 
We  must  grovel,  we  must  crawl  and  beg,  forget  our  human  right 
And  submit  without  complaint  to  live  our- lives  in  bestial  plight. 
We  must  take  with  grateful  fawning  any  crumb 

they  pleased  to  toss 
And  worship  for  the  miner's  God  the  miner's  brutal  boss. 


22  LUDLOW 

His  Majesty: 

You  can't  mean  that  John  D.  Jr.,  my  tried  and  trusted  friend, 
On  whose  gold  so  very  many  of  my  holiest  works  depend, 
Tried  to  usurp  my  throne  ? 

Tikas :  Your  throne  he  captured  long  ago. 

There 's  not  a  church  in  all  this  land  where  you  have  any  show 
Competing  with  your  dear  John  D.  for  hymns  and 

prayers  and  praise. 

You  get  constrained  lip  service  on  your  formal  Sabbath  days, 
He  gets  heart  adoration  from  your  superficial  saints, 
And  he  gets  it  all  the  time. 

His  Majesty:  I've  heard  before  some  such  complaints- 

Mere  atheistic  gibber  I  imagine. 

Tikas :  Born  in  Crete, 

From  her  ancient  kings  descended  in  their  legendary  seat, 
I  beheld  the  world  around  me  blasted  with  helpless  pain— 
The  bestial  peasant  toiling  clanked  his  master's  iron  chain, 
He  ate  the  fetid  offal  rejected  by  his  swine 

That  his  silken  lord  off  dainty  food  from  golden  plate  might  dine. 
He  toiled  in  blazing  harvest  suns  with  aching  muscles  whipped 
By  hunger  gaunt  that  lords  might  loll  in  shady  dalliance  dipped. 
He  in  a  filthy  hovel  dreamed  his  nightmare  rest  away 
That  his  razored  lord  till  daylight  might 

with  jeweled  harlots  play. 

I  saw  the  smirking  priest  astride  the  backs  of  docile  fools, 
I  heard  the  lying  lore  they  taught  in  old  oppression's  schools — 
I  saw  the  supercilious  smile  of  landlord,  king  and  priest 
As  they  cracked  the  driver's  lash  above  the  chained 

and  harnessed  East- 
Old  Samson  eyeless,  conquered,  grinds  his  masters'  weary  mill 
While  they  sip  their  wine  and  watch  him  work 

their  high,  imperious  will. 

His  Majesty: 

What  world  are  you  describing? 

Tikas :  Earth. 

His  Majesty:  The  world  I  sent  my  son 

To  save  ? 

Tikas:  The  same  old  earth,  your  gracious  Majesty,  the  one 

You  rule  in  righteousness  and  love,  where  pain  remorseless  gnaws, 
Where  the  weeping  poor  have  no  appeal  and 

might  enacts  the  laws. 


LUDLOW  23 

His  Majesty: 

From  your  piteous  description  I'd  suppose  you  spoke  of  hell, 
Which  I  planned  to  make  repellant. 

Tikas:  And  succeeded  fairly  well, 

But  it  can't  compare  with  earth  for  woe 

relentless,  black,  appalling. 
From  the  free  West  untamed,  unchained,  I  heard 

Columbia  calling — 

Columbia  with  the  starlight  in  her  eyes— upon  her  brow 
The  diadem  of  promise  and  the  sealed,  eternal  vow 
To  right  the  aged  wrongs  of  men,  the  friendless  to  defend, 
To  free  the  soul  for  godlike  deeds— 

His  Majesty:  You  flatter  me,  my  friend. 

Godlike  ?    By  that  I  see  you  mean  deeds  great,  emancipating, 
Diffusing  joy  thru  all  the  world.    I  cannot  help  inflating 
My  breast  with  pride  that  you  ascribe  activities  to  me 
Like  those,  and  whiles  I  sit  and  think  how  pleasant  it  would  be 
To  take  a  hand  in  something  good  or  interesting  or  great — 
But  there 's  my  church,  my  creeds,  my  prayers, 

my  sacraments — too  late — 

Too  late  alas !  for  me  to  dream  of  helping  on  the  world. 
I'm  overwhelmed  with  holy  bunk,  my  spirit's  sails  are  furled 
In  a  fetid  Saragasso  sea  of  pieties  tenacious. 

U.  Sin.: 

Your  tongue  seems  still  unfettered. 

Mother  Jones :  His  tongue  !     Yes.    Please  your  gracious 

Majesty,  reserve  for  some  appropriate  time  your  plaint 
And  let  poor  Tikas  have  his  say. 

His  Majesty:  Go  on. 

Tikas :  I  sought  to  paint, 

When  you  broke  in,  the  hopes  that  sprung  within  me  when  I  saw 

The  torch  of  Liberty  ablaze  upon  the  shores  of  law 

Equal  for  all ;  when  rising  from  the  gray  Atlantic  wave 

I  beheld  the  home  of  Justice  where  the  poorest  man  may  brave 

The  richest  in  impartial  courts  and  win  his  right  unawed 

By  power  or  frowning  prestige.    So  with  expectations  broad 

Of  faithful  work  and  sure  reward  to  Rockefeller's  mines 

I  journeyed. 

His  Majesty :      Yes.    Now  tell  me  what  you  found  in  those  confines. 

Tikas : 

I  found  old  Europe's  feudal  woes  thriving  in  kindred  soil, 

I  found  men  there,  just  as  at  home,  despised  because  they  toil, 


24  LUDLOW 

Enslaved  by  crafty  power  and  robbed,  wrong  lording  over  right, 
Man's  kindliness  and  gentleness  depraved  by  cruel  might 
To  bestialize  him ;  and  I  found,  what  Europe  cannot  show, 
The  crafty  judges  fawning  on  the  lords  of  human  woe, 
Blazing  dispiteous  crime  for  law,  decreeing  hellish  wrong, 
And  merchandizing  justice.    In  alliance  with  the  strong, 
The  cunning,  leaden-hearted  rich  I  found  the  powers  of  state, 
The  army  sold  to  vulture  greed,  the  law  confederate 
With  cynic  lust  and  murderous  hate,  society  putrescent 
Crawling  with  worms  of  rot  and  thru  the  ropy  mass  incessant 
Bubbled  the  preacher's  ghoulish  breath  with  carrion  stench  areek 
Proclaiming  this  was  your  work,  God,  your  will,  and  we  the  meek, 
The  beaten  curs,  the  oxen  yoked  and  goaded  in  our  path 
Must  uncomplaining  toil  or  feel  in  hell  your  quenchless  wrath. 

His  Majesty: 

I  sometimes  really  wish  I  had  a  hell  like  they  describe, 
'Twould  be  convenient  when  I  come  to  settle  with  that  tribe. 
But  never  mind.    Let's  hear  the  rest. 

U.  Sin.:  He's  making  an  impression! 

Mother  Jones : 

So  many  of  God's  intimates  are  liars  by  profession 
That  truth  must  seem  a  luxury  to  him  like  desert  rains. 

Tikas: 

When  racked  by  tyranny  obscene  the  miners  broke  their  chains 
And  struck  I  was  their  captain,  I  was  brain  and  heart  and  hand 
For  all  the  childlike  multitude.    Docile  at  my  command 
They  built  their  canvas  refuge  town  strategic  where  the  roads 
To  many  a  coal  mine  focus,  thus  to  intercept  the  loads 
Of  Rockefeller's  thugs  and  scabs  discharged  from  cattle  trains 
To  eat  our  bread  and  starve  our  kids ;  and  down  the  weary  lanes 
Our  comrades  met  them  pleading,  "0  brothers  kind,  forbear. 
"  'Tis  your  battle  we  are  fighting  and  the  victory  you'll  share — 
"The  long,  long  gains  of  victory,  freedom  and  manly  weal, 
"The  joy  of  chainless  work  and  homes  secure."    To  our  appeal 
Deaf  they  marched  on,  but  here  and  there  along  the  sullen  line 
Dark  faces  paled  with  keen  remorse, 

hard  hands  struck  ours,  divine 

In  pledge  of  brotherhood,  and  some,  seduced  by  artful  lies 
To  wrong  their  fellow  toilers, 

when  the  black  truth  smote  their  eyes 

Forsook  the  assassin  hypocrite  with  his  gore-smeared  Bible  armed 
And  joined  our  band. 

The  barons,  for  their  slaves  and  power  alarmed, 
Resolved  upon  a  deed— 


LUDLOW  25 

His  Majesty:  What  deed? 

Tikas:  Monstrous,  inhuman,  one 

That  History  dare  not  look  upon— so  black  that  once  'tis  done 
Mankind  for  fear  of  going  mad  with  horror  turn  away 
And  will  not  believe  the  story. 

His  Majesty:  Oh,  of  such  deeds  in  my  day 

I've  known  too  many,  many. 

U.  Sin.:  Usually  done,  you  can't  deny, 

To  glorify  your  Majesty. 

His  Majesty:  Tut,  tut.    There  you  and  I 

Must  differ.    When  men  do  a  deed  too  hideous  for  hell 
They  are  apt  to  fancy  queerly  that  it  makes  the  evil  well 
To  say  'twas  for  God's  glory— that's  the  ordinary  game- 
But  they  always  act  for  their  own  power 

and  profit  just  the  same. 

U.  Sin.: 

For  once  you  reason  soundly. 

Tikas:  Massacre  was  their  plot- 

To  kill  and  burn— obliterate  our  city— "sparing  not 
The  nursing  mother  nor  the  babe. 

Minister:  Your  Majesty  does  wrong 

To  list  to  such  a  slander  upon  active  Christians  strong 
For  law  and  order,  generous  to  charity,  stiff  props 
Of  church  and  state.    The  man  who  tells  that  wicked  story  lops 
All  possible  belief  by  his  own  words. 

Mother  Jones:  That's  just  the  fix 

Tikas  predicted  he'd  be  in  if  he  exposed  the  tricks 
Your  sanctified  assassin  plays  upon  his  helpless  slaves. 
The  holy  butcher  finishes  his  bloody  work,  then  braves 
It  out  as  something  too  absurd  for  rational  belief. 

Tikas: 

We  their  dull  cattle,  born  to  toil  patient  in  mindless  grief, 
Had  conspired  against  our  owners,  we  had  blocked  the  easy  game 
They'd  played  so  often— luring  blinded  levies  meek  and  tame 
To  supersede  the  bands  grown  wild  with  freedom's  calling  scent 
Faint  on  far  breezes  borne — and  now  they'd  cure  our  discontent 
With  one  fell  lesson,  and  upon  the  slave's  crushed  heart  record 
That  the  crime  past  all  forgiveness  is  defiance  of  his  lord- 
When  defiance  cripples  profits. 


26  LUDLOW 

U.  Sin. :  That  was  well  put  in.    They'll  stand 

Anything  under  heaven  as  long  as  gains  expand, 
But  once  their  profits  suffer  they're  implacable. 

Tikas:  The  day 

Was  Easter. 

Mother  Jones:          Yes,  Your  Majesty,  the  morning  when,  they  say, 
Your  meek  son  from  the  dead  arose,  his  sacrifice  complete, 
To  smile  forevermore  upon  the  world  he'd  made  the  seat 
Of  perfect  happiness,  the  realm  of  mutual  love  divine— 

His  Majesty: 

No,  madam,  you  misapprehend  the  purpose  all  benign 

We  had  in  mind,  my  son  and  I,  when  we  arranged  the  scene 

On  Calvary  dramatic.    It  was  not  to  intervene 

In  your  affairs  terrestrial,  vain  phantoms  fading  swift, 

Unworthy  of  a  moment's  thot,  but  rather  to  uplift 

Your  spirits'  longing  heavenward  and  your  admission  pay 

Within  the  pearly  gates. 

Tikas:  The  sun  of  holy  Easter  Day 

Shone  bright  upon  our  tented  town,  and  after  weeks  of  rest — 
The  first  in  all  our  driven  lives— the  heart  in  every  breast 
Beat  high  with  hope  and  confidence.    From  tent  to  sunny  tent 
The  women's  voices  echoed  gay,  the  children's  merriment 
Made  music  in  the  clear,  sweet  air,  the  melody  of  peace. 
And  with  virile  jest  and  laughter,  as  they  used  at  home  in  Greece 
On  Eastern  morn,  the  young  men  formed  a  game  upon  the  green. 

His  Majesty: 

What  game? 

Mother  Jones:    Baseball,  Your  Majesty.    It  was  a  heartening  scene. 
The  striker  at  the  hat  with  manly  gesture  plays  his  part, 
The  pitcher  twirls  the  wily  ball  with  deft,  elusive  art, 
The  basemen  straddle  at  their  bags  alert  to  catch  and  guard, 
The  runners  steal  their  crafty  way,  advancing  yard  by  yard, 
Till  far,  far  out  upon  the  wild  the  batsman  knocks  a  fly- 
Beyond  the  racing  fielders'  stretch  it  sails  across  the  sky. 
The  shouting  fans  surge  forward  like  the  sea  waves'  crest  of  foam 
And  the  men  upon  the  bases  black  with  sweat  come  panting  home. 

His  Majesty: 

I'd  like  to  see  a  game. 

Minister:  Tut,  tut.    Your  Majesty  forgets 

'Tis  often  played  on  Sunday  and  a  sinful  bunch  of  wets 


LUDLOW  27 

Are  those  who  most  affect  it.    'Twere  a  hideous  sight  to  scan 
Should  Your  Majesty  be  tempted  to  become  a  baseball  fan. 

His  Majesty: 

Well,  well,  I'll  think  it  over. 

Tikas:  From  the  hills  about  the  town 

Rockefeller's  hired  militia  on  the  merry  scene  looked  down, 
Swaggering,  bragging,  swearing— the  edict  was  to  slay — 
"Shoot  all  that  moves,"  the  order  ran— they  hungered  to  obey. 
Prom  the  lawless  plains  of  Texas 

there  were  cowboys  gathered  there, 

Drunken,  filthy  tongued,  obscene  of  heart;  from  Rockefeller's  lair, 
New  York,  the  nation's  cesspool,  where  the  pirate  robs  and  rules, 
His  subject  thieves  by  hundreds  had  vacation  from  the  schools 
Where  they  learn  in  modest  little  their  master's  mighty  art 
And  had  flocked  to  Colorado;  yea,  from  every  butcher's  mart 
In  all  the  land  where  crime  is  bought  and  human  blood  is  sold 
Had  gathered  bands  to  earn  their  share  of  Rockefeller's  gold, 
And  the  harlot  state  enrolled  them  in  her  brave  militia  proud 
Of  kindred  spirits'  fellowship;  fraternal  greetings  loud 
Rang  from  Colorado 's  native  thugs  to  brother  thugs.    At  last 
From  hill  to  hill  that  Easter  morn  the  silent  signal  passed— 

His  Majesty: 

What  was  the  signal? 

U.  Sin. :  Chosen  out  of  deference  polite 

To  Rockefeller's  feelings,  'twas  a  Bible  bound  in  white. 

Tikas: 

And  as  each  militia  major  passed  the  Bible  from  his  hand 
He  arrayed  in  warlike  order  his  own  assassin  band. 
Upon  the  heights  in  ambush  two  machine  guns  treacherous,  aimed 
Straight  at  the  merry  ball  ground,  at  the  evil  moment  flamed, 
And  the  players  on  the  bases  shouting  boyish  jests  fell  dead 
And  the  Easter-clad  spectators  torn  with  bloody  slaughter  fled. 
Here  a  stalwart  miner  writhed  in  death,  a  fear-crazed  mother  there 
Fell  with  her  babe  whose  fingers  clung  amid  her  clotted  hair. 
The  little  children  fleeing  to  the  shelter  of  the  town 
Were  chosen  marks — 

the  gunmen  with  obscene  jests  shot  them  down. 
For  now  the  brave  militia  by  their  gallant  majors  led 
Marched  on  the  helpless  city  across  the  trodden  dead. 
"Kill  all  that  moves,"  their  watchword  passed 

from  ribald  tongue  to  tongue— 
"Kill"  was  their  master's  order,  "spare  neither  old  nor  young." 


28  LUDLOW 

'Tis  thus  that  slaves  rebellious  are  taught  to  bow  the  head 
And  bend  their  shoulders  to  the  yoke.    The  bleeding  miners  fled 
To  seize  their  disused  rifles  and  form  some  poor  defense, 
The  women  with  their  children  found  a  treacherous  pretense 
Of  safety  in  the  shallow  pits  'neath  canvas  dwellings  dug 
In  troubles  past  for  shelter.    The  majors  with  a  shrug, 
Scornful  of  vermin  easy  trapped,  poured  holy  kerosene, 
Sacred  to  John  D.  Jr.,  upon  the  canvas  screen 
That  hid  their  cowering  prey  and  then,  lechers  of  agony, 
They  fired  the  tents  and  listened  with  grins  of  lustful  glee 
For  tortured  shrieks.    The  fugitives  who  fled  the  tents  aflame 
Were  shot  like  rats. 

Mother  Jones:  Your  Majesty,  it  was  a  merry  game. 

Tikas: 

A  merry,  merry  game.    From  out  the  fiery  pits  charred  hands 
Reached  piteous  heavenward  for  help,  and  Rockefeller's  bands 
Made  marks  of  babies'  fingers  cramped  in  torment. 

His  Majesty:  "Were  you  there ? 

Tikas : 

I  was  there,  I  saw  the  horror.    In  the  pits  the  fire  stripped  bare 
I  saw  the  dead. 

His  Majesty  [to  John  D.  Jr.] 

And  where  were  you,  while  this  went  on,  dear  sir  ? 

John  D.  Jr. : 

At  home  my  Bible  reading.     'Twere  injustice  to  infer 

That  I'm  accountable  at  all  for  anything  that's  done 

In  those  far-off  mining  regions.    For  I  merely  am  the  one 

That  own  the  mines.  With  managing  the  business,  with  the  hands, 

With  all  their  petty  rights  and  wrongs,  and  how  the  payroll  stands 

I've  naught  to  do.    I  trust  all  that  to  mercenary  brain 

Subordinate  but  competent. 

His  Majesty:  And  will  you  please  explain 

What  helpful  part  you  play? 

John  D.  Jr. :  I  take  the  profits. 

His  Majesty:  Does  that  help? 

John  D.  Jr. : 

I  give  jobs  and  pay  their  wages— from  the  lowest  drunken  whelp 
That  drills  my  coal  and  blasts  it  to  the  bulbous  major  gay 
That  leads  the  proud  militiamen  they  look  to  me  for  pay. 


LUDLOW  29 

His  Majesty: 

It  strikes  me  that  they  pay  themselves — at  least  the  workmen  do. 
Part  of  what  they  produce  they  keep  and  give  the  rest  to  you — 
But  why  they  give  it,  that's  what  ever  puzzles  me. 

Minister:  I  fear 

The  sacred  rights  of  property  are  not  entirely  clear 
To  Your  Majesty's  intelligence. 

His  Majesty:  They're  muddy,  I  confess. 

This  ownership,  it  sucks  the  blood.    The  word  that  would  express 
My  notion  of  it,  were  it  not  so  impolite,  is  louse. 

Minister : 

Such  sentiments  subversive  here  in  this  holy  house, 
I  must  say,  are  very  shocking. 

His  Majesty:  Well,  this  holy  house  is  mine. 

As  owner  I'll  say  what  I  please. 

Minister :  But  how  it  sounds ! 

His  Majesty :  It 's  fine 

If  my  dear  friend  Rockefeller  can  do  what  he  likes  with  coals 
And  oil  and  ore  and  timber,  with  money,  men  and  souls, 
While  I  can't  even  speak  my  mind  within  my  temple  walls — 
I'll  say  again,  howe'er  it  sounds,  this  ownership  appals 
My  common  sense.    I  am  surprised  that  men  whom  I  created 
Intelligent,  or  thot  I  did,  should  let  themselves  be  freighted 
With  such  a  load. 

Minister:  The  world  is  full  of  mysteries  profound. 

Your  Majesty  must  not  expect  the  depths  of  all  to  sound— 
What  were  our  holy  church  without  her  mysteries  abysmal? 
Where  Knowledge  wallows  blind  and  lost 

in  bridgeless  quagmires  dismal 

Faith  sees  a  starlit  path  ahead  well  paved  and  ground  secure — 
There's  some  great  purpose  runs  thru  all,  of  that  you  may  be  sure. 

His  Majesty: 

There  'tis  again — my  purpose  grand  which  everything  excuses. 
I  wish  to  God  I  knew  what  'tis.    No  doubt  my  dear  friend  uses 
That  pretext  too.    He  has  like  me  some  purpose  grand,  sublime, 
Which  leisurely  evolves  itself  thru  endless  links  of  time, 
And  all  such  little  episodes  as  that  which  Tikas  tells 
Are  wavelets  on  a  mighty  crest  that  toward  some  haven  swells 
Far  off,  divine. 

John  D.  Jr.:  Your  Majesty  is  jocular,  I  fear, 

But  really  and  truly,  Sire,  there  is  a  purpose  clear 


30  LUDLOW 

That  guides  my  life.    But,  sad  to  say,  'tis  oftentimes  obscured 
By  these  distracting  worriments. 

His  Majesty:  The  grief  that  I've  endured 

From  that  same  cause !    The  trouble  is  that  men  like  you  and  me 
Are  overworked— we  have  too  much  responsibility 
Upon  our  shoulders.    But  we  stray.    I'm  eager  to  inquire 
Of  Tikas  what  befell  his  friends  whom  massacre  and  fire 
Had  spared. 

Tikas :         They  crept,  a  shuddering  band,  women  and  children  pale, 
A  little  way  to  shelter  from  the  bullets'  deadly  hail, 
Mothers  who  clasped  dead  babies  to  their  ghastly  bosoms  charred 
With  fire,  and  butchered  children ;  the  writhing  flames  had  scarred 
Their  faces,  eaten  out  their  eyes,  consumed  their  helpless  hands, 
And  as  they  blindly  followed  us  the  brave  militia  bands 
Silenced  their  cries  with  bullets. 

U.  Sin. :  'Twas  an  edifying  scene, 

Sacred  property,  religion,  law  and  order  and  serene, 
Impartial  justice  handing  to  the  poor  the  fruits  mature 
Of  our  luscious  civilization. 

Tikas :  Hoping  respite  to  secure 

From  the  gunmen's  murderous  bullets 

while  we  gathered  up  our  dead 

I  crossed  the  blackened  ruins  with  a  white  flag  o'er  my  head 
And  made  my  sad  petition  to  the  leader. 

His  Majesty:  Tell  the  rest. 

Don't  stop  right  in  the  middle  of  your  tale. 

Mother  Jones:  He's  done  his  best, 

Your  Majesty.    While  Tikas  begged  the  General's  consent 
To  collect  the  fire-scarred  bodies 

from  each  burned  and  plundered  tent 

A  brave  Lieutenant  struck  him  with  his  gun  butt  from  behind 
And  he  fell  a  silent  corpse. 

His  Majesty:  Indeed!    I'd  like  to  keep  in  mind 

The  name  of  that  Lieutenant  brave  for  future  recompense. 

Mother  Jones : 

'Twas  Linderfelt,  Your  Majesty,  but  I'll  make  no  pretense 
That  he  was  worse  or  better  than  his  comrades.    You  perceive 
That  Tikas 's  tale  is  ended. 

[Enter  Colorado] 


LUDLOW  31 

His  Majesty:  So  I  see,  but  still  I  grieve 

To  stop  right  in  the  middle  this  investigation  fair. 
But  hist !  what  form  comes  yonder  with  the  pale,  peroxide  hair 
And  cheeks  with  paint  made  witching?    Those  belladonna  eyes, 
Those  patent  breasts  seductive ! 

Mother  Jones:  If  Your  Majesty  is  wise 

You'll  look  for  better  company.    A  trollop  loose  and  lewd 
She  shows  herself  ""by  every  sign.    Events  have  made  me  shrewd 
In  sizing  up  such  huzzies,  but  I  fear  you'll  be  beguiled, 
Your  Majesty's  so  innocent,  so  sheltered,  such  a  child, 
By  her  false  charms  entangled,  and  a  scandal  will  ensue ! 

His  Majesty: 

Don't  worry.    Well,  dear  madam,  kindly  say  to  what  is  due 

The  honor  of  this  visit  ?    "We  are  charmed  to  see  you  here 

And  shall  listen  with  attention  while  you  make  your  errand  clear. 

Colorado : 

My  name  is  Colorado.    I  am  here  from  far  away 
To  defend  my  reputation  dear  impeached  by  those  who  say 
That  to  gay  young  John  D.  Jr.  I  have  sold  my  virtue  bright— 
Not  with  empty  protestations,  not  with  vain  words  shall  I  fight, 
There  are  those,  a  loyal  cohort,  who'll  strike  when  I  am  wronged. 
Come  in,  my  brave  defenders,  let  this  holy  place  be  thronged 
"With  injured  Virtue's  champions. 

[Enter  Majors] 

Now  who  says  I'm  a  whore? 

Majors : 

We're  fat  militia  majors  bold— our  Queen  we  all  adore, 
And  our  last  leaping  virile  drop  of  blood  so  rich  and  red 
For  Colorado's  fair  white  fame  we'll  gladly,  gladly  shed 

And  for  the  stainless  honor  of  the  flag. 
That  we  murdered  helpless  prisoners  was  commendable  and  right 

Since  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  broke  our  sacred  pledges  for  John  D.'s  dollars  bright 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  sprinkled  kerosene  with  brooms  the  miners'  tent  homes  o'er, 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  fired  the  tents  and  shot  the  forms  that  fled  each  blazing  door 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  brained  with  rifle  butts  the  babes  that  crept  between  our  feet 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  trampled  wounded  women's  breasts  upon  the  bloody  street 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 


32  LUDLOW 

We  shot  at  little  hands  to  God  from  flaming  pits  upraised 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  murdered  mothers  fleeing  with  their  babes,  by  torment  crazed, 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
In  putrid  lust  we've  wallowed,  we  have  steeped  our  souls  in  shame, 

And  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 
We  did  it  all  as  patriots  without  reproach  or  blame, 

Since  we  did  it  for  the  honor  of  the  flag. 

Minister : 

Oh,  let  us  give  them  glory  due,  these  Majors  so  devout, 

With  the  beautiful  gin  blossom  on  each  bellicose  brave  snout. 

Since  all,  Your  Majesty,  was  done  in  honor  of  the  flag 

For  virgin  Colorado's  sake  why  should  your  verdict  lag? 

It  must  be  evident  to  you  from  all  that  has  transpired 

That  our  precious  John  D.  Jr.  with  holy  zeal  was  fired 

For  Law  and  Order.    All  he  did  was  permeated  thru 

And  thru  with  some  great  purpose,  not  discernible  to  you 

Perhaps,  or  me,  but  still  our  sacred  duty  is  to  trust 

That  he's  striving,  far  beyond  our  ken,  for  some  great  end  and  just. 

In  his  good  time  his  purpose  will  appear  as  clear  as  day 

And  the  glory  of  his  righteousness  will  shine  with  blinding  ray. 

His  Majesty: 

I  remember  that  same  language  used  of  me  in  days  of  yore. 

Minister : 

So  it  was  when  you  were  potent,  in  those  dim  old  days  before 

The  dynasty  we  worship  now  had  risen  into  power — 

Gods  rise  and  set  like  stars  and  suns,  each  has  his  little  hour. 

His  Majesty: 

It  seems  so.    Well,  I  came  here  hoping  these  disclosures  grave 
About  your  John  D.  Jr.  would  suffice  your  souls  to  save 
From  this  apostasy  profane.    But  since  you're  lost  past  cure 
I  may  as  well  go  back  to  heaven. 

Minister:  You  ever  may  feel  sure, 

Your  Majesty,  that  you  shall  have  our  reverence  and  respect. 
We've  the  greatest  admiration  for  your  brilliant  intellect— 
We  esteem  you  as  a  patron  of  poetry  and  art 
But  in  humdrum  practical  affairs  you've  ceased  to  play  a  part. 
'Tis  give  and  take  in  worship  as  in  other  earthly  things— 
Perhaps  in  heaven  'tis  different. 

His  Majesty:  Come,  Gabriel,  spread  your  wings 

And  we'll  be  going.    Don't  forget  to  bring  along  your  trump, 
You'll  need  it  by  and  by  again  when  this  distressing  slump 


LUDLOW  33 

In  our  affairs  has  been  retrieved,  as  well  I  trust  it  may. 
When  that  time  comes  I  mean  to  hold  another  Judgment  Day 
With  all  becoming  pomp,  and  your  delightful  task  will  be 
To  summon  with  your  brazen  notes  this  Anti-God  John  D. 
It  will  not  much  surprise  me  if  that  trial  harder  goes 
With  him  than  this,  and  finds  a  far  more  satisfying  close. 

[Exeunt] 


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